


Heartlines

by baar_ur



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Explicit Language, F/M, M/M, Memory Loss, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rem-tech shenanigans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-10-30 08:26:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10872954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baar_ur/pseuds/baar_ur
Summary: “So, what are we going to call you?” Reyes asks. Presumably, it’s rhetorical. She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t feel like saying ‘I don’t know’ for the dozenth time today.Bain cocks his head. “Assuming her memory comes back, ‘hey, you’ will work for a few days.”“Assuming it doesn’t, she’ll be around a lot longer than a few days,” Reyes replies. “What about Luna?”“Hmm.” Bain looks her over again. “I guess you look like a Luna. Do you like it?”She shoves her hands into the pockets of her too-large pants. Luna. Earth’s moon. A pale and lovely light. A barren and lonely wasteland. “Yeah,” she says. “I like it.”





	1. Just keep following / the heartlines on your hand

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [I'm Only Human](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10661451) by [The_Good_Tevinter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Good_Tevinter/pseuds/The_Good_Tevinter). 



> Always, thank you to ziskandra for beta-reading, and Tempest2004 for encouraging me even though she's not a Mass Effect fan.

Sara gasps softly as the lights hanging above the console begin to coalesce into a map of the Heleus cluster. “Oh, it’s beautiful,” she murmurs, stepping forward.

“Careful,” Alec grunts. He has his hands full, wrangling SAM and the console at the same time, but still manages to keep an eye on his daughter as she raises a hand toward the lights.

“C’mon, Dad,” she says dismissively, reaching out toward one of the little icons. “It’s just a display, I’m-”

There is a soft thump, and Sara Ryder is gone.

 

Sand and sulfur and sun.

That’s all she’s known for… for how long? For as long as she can remember, certainly, but she doubts she came into being fully-formed, born naked from the dunes like a siren from the sea. There’s a crust of salt and sand adhered to her skin, but it stopped itching hours ago. It’s her only protection from the sun. Her feet burn with every step she takes over the hot sand, but what else is she supposed to do? Sit and wait? Wait for what?

There’s a glimmer on the ridge of a distant dune, and she stops for a moment, raising a hand to shade her eyes. A plume of dust, a faint rumbling. A vehicle? Yes!

When she opens her mouth, she only manages a faint croak. But she’s at the crest of a dune, and waving frantically.  _ Please, please, please… _ Slowly but surely, the dune buggy turns toward her. The driver comes to a halt at the base of the hill, and she stumbles-slides her way down.

“You’re a long way from the flock, little duck.” He pushes his goggles up to his forehead and looks her over with dark eyes. She folds her arms over her breasts nervously. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing out here?”

“I- I don’t know,” she says. Her voice is hoarse, barely a whisper. “I just woke up out here.”

“Had a fun night, huh?” He chuckles, not waiting for a response. “Come on, then. I’ll give you a ride back to port.” He strips off his long, pale duster as she climbs into the passenger seat. Underneath, he wears a black bodysuit that clings to his muscular figure. “Here, darlin’. Cover up.”

“Thank you.” She has to squirm a little to wrap the too-large coat around her without getting back out of the truck, but he doesn’t watch too closely.

When she’s settled, he holds out a hand to shake. “Don’t think we’ve met before. Bain Massani.”

“I’m-” She hesitates, still holding his hand. “I’m… I don’t know.”

Bain raises an eyebrow before reaching to put the buggy in gear.

 

The sun has set by the time they approach Kadara Port, the last streaks of brilliant color fading from the clouds in the west. Against the darkened sky of the east, the port looks like an oasis of light, glimmering atop its rocky outcrop. Bain guns it through the slum’s outskirts, the headlights flickering against glass and steel for split seconds before they pass. The rumble of the engine lessens as they draw closer to the base of the mountain, the vehicle’s speed slowing as the buildings grow taller and more crowded.

“Where are you taking me?” The sound of her voice seems to take him by surprise. He looks over to her as though he’s surprised she’s still there.

“Nakamoto’s place,” he replies. “Local doctor.”

“I- I don’t think I’ve been here before. Nothing looks familiar.”

“Hmm,” is all Bain says in reply.

Nakamoto’s is up two rickety flights of stairs, half-heartedly attached to a building that seems to have been fabricated from scraps of shipping containers. On the lower landing, two salarians are huddled together, sharing a cigarette that smells of burning plastic and phosphorus. One turns slightly to eye her as she follows Bain up the steps, and she pulls the coat around her more tightly.

The clinic is empty aside from a krogan sleeping in one corner. The cheap lights flicker as a shuttle rumbles overhead, casting shadows on the whitewashed walls. “Looks like we haven’t hit rush hour yet,” Bain says. “Pretty soon, this place’ll be crawling with drunks, overdoses, and bar brawlers.”

“Gotta make the cash to stay afloat somehow.” A man steps out from behind one of the flimsy dividers, not looking up from his omni-tool. He’s dressed in a neat black coat, his dark hair combed back from his face, and looks generally like the cleanest person she’s yet seen on Kadara. “I’m surprised to see you here, Massani. Usually, you take care of yourself.”

“Nothing wrong with me, Doc. I brought this little one for you to check up on.” Bain nudges her forward. Under bright light, standing on a clean and solid floor, she feels suddenly self-conscious of her bare feet and dirty face.

The doctor looks her over once. “Let me guess. Robbery?” 

“I… don’t know.” She seems to be saying that a lot, lately. Nakamoto takes a few steps away, leading her and Bain away from the waiting area, and gestures for her to sit on one of the gurneys. Her feet dangle over the edge. She stares down at them instead of the two men watching her.

“I picked her up out past Johan’s place,” Bain says. “Doesn’t know who she is or how she got out there.”

“Amnesia.” The doctor taps at his omni-tool before raising his arm to scan her. “No head wounds. A few bumps and bruises. Soon to have a wonderful case of sunburn. I’ll grab you some salve for that.”

Bain crosses his arms and leans against the divider. “If she doesn’t have a head wound, what’s the memory loss?”

“Two other options: trauma or drugs.” Nakamoto hums to himself, running his omni-tool along the back of her neck. “And…”

“And?” Bain repeats.

“A couple of cybernetic implants. That one looks like a biotic amp, nice and fancy. But the other one…” He shakes his head. “I’ve got no idea. More advanced than anything I’ve seen before.” He pulls his hand back, adjusting his omni-tool again. “Let me take a blood sample?” She holds out her arm obediently and barely winces at the needle. “All right. I need to run some tests, and then I’ll be right back with something for that sunburn.”

The door to the clinic hisses open just as the doctor steps away. Bain places a hand on the pistol at his hip before he leans out around the screen.

“Massani!” an accented voice calls. “I heard you were back in town. Went straight to the good doctor here without even dropping in on me. I wasn’t sure if I should be concerned or insulted.” The man that saunters around the corner is dark and suave where Bain is close-shaved and rugged, but there’s something similar in their eyes. “Don’t tell me you brought me a present,” he jokes as he looks at her.

“Don’t be a cunt, Reyes,” Bain orders good-naturedly. “I found her out on the dunes. She doesn’t even know her own goddamn name.”

“Interesting,” Reyes murmurs. He steps closer and lifts her chin with a finger, ignoring the way Bain glares at him. “You’ll have to take her up to the port. See if anyone in Sloane’s little royal court recognizes her.”

“Tomorrow,” Bain agrees. “Too late tonight.”

“Please, it’s barely sundown.” At Bain’s shrug, Reyes continues. “All right, all right. I assume you’re staying at my place, as per usual? Your little friend is welcome, too. I doubt things would end well for her if we turned her out on the street.”

“I can take care of myself,” she says.

Reyes looks to her with a raised eyebrow. “You don’t have shoes, much less a weapon. Most people on Kadara are not as nice as we are.”

“Because we’re  _ such _ nice goddamn people,” Bain mutters sarcastically.

She hesitates, looking to Bain for guidance. “I… You were nice enough to rescue me.”

Reyes laughs. “She has you there, my friend.”

“Now then- Oh, Mr. Vidal.” The doctor nods to Bain’s friend. “Just stopping by?”

Reyes shrugs with a smile. “You know me. Too curious for my own good.”

“I can’t argue with that.” Nakamoto turns to his patient, setting a bag down on the bed beside her. “Now, it doesn’t look like you were drugged. There’s only traces of standard-grade combat stims in your blood. But it also doesn’t look like you’ve been on Kadara very long. Locals build up levels of sulfur over time, and your levels are very low.” Finished with his diagnosis, he sighs and crosses his arms. “If I had to guess, I’d think you were marooned here. But you seem to be in good hands now.”

“Thank you, doctor,” she says. There doesn’t seem to be anything else to say.

Nakamoto nods. “If you’re still around in a few days, drop by and I’ll turn your biotic amp back on for you. The other one, I don’t even want to touch. Looks like it was developed by somebody a lot smarter than I am.” He shrugs. “In the meantime, I gathered these for you,” he says, patting the bag. “The salve for your sunburn, and some supplies. Don’t ask where they came from.”

“I don’t think I’m in a position to be picky,” she mutters. As she moves the bag onto her lap, Nakamoto shoos Bain and Reyes back into the waiting room and pulls a curtain between the dividers, leaving her in privacy. As she dresses, she can hear the two men bickering in friendly tones.

There’s an assortment of clothes in the bag, mostly around her size, although one shirt looks like it was made for a turian rather than a human. Without a bra, she opts for a tight undershirt and loose tee. There’s a small plastic container at the bottom of the bag, and she digs out a mid-grade omni-tool and a combat knife, tucked into a sheath with straps. She leaves the knife where it is, but slips the omni-tool onto her wrist and starts the boot-up procedure without thinking about it. She almost changes her mind as she watches the logo bounce on the screen as the processor wakes up; does she want to deal with a dead man’s data? But when the application opens, the omni-tool’s memory is empty, wiped clean.

Just like hers.

When she pushes the curtain back and steps out into the waiting area, Reyes gives her a smile that she suspects has turned a lot of people into slightly damp, sticky messes. With the sunburn balm, she’s already gone past slightly damp and into remarkably sticky, so it doesn’t do much for her. By comparison, Bain looks her over once and gives her a curt nod. Somehow that’s the reaction that has her relaxing in their company. He already seems like a friend.

“So, what are we going to call you?” Reyes asks. Presumably, it’s rhetorical. She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t feel like saying ‘I don’t know’ for the dozenth time today.

Bain cocks his head. “Assuming her memory comes back, ‘hey, you’ will work for a few days.”

“Assuming it doesn’t, she’ll be around a lot longer than a few days,” Reyes replies. “What about Luna?”

“Hmm.” Bain looks her over again. “I guess you look like a Luna. Do you like it?”

She shoves her hands into the pockets of her too-large pants.  _ Luna. _ Earth’s moon. A pale and lovely light. A barren and lonely wasteland. “Yeah,” she says. “I like it.”


	2. Home

Reyes’ apartment is halfway up Kadara Bluff, balanced on a knife-edge between the slums and the port. It’s part of a secure complex of small homes attached to the rock, branching off the private elevator chute. They cling to the stone like barnacles, tiny metal parasites slowly climbing the height of the great cliff.

The apartment itself is… more homey than she expected. There’s a fireplace in the corner of the living room, although it looks like it’s just a cover for a space heater, its holographic flames flickering in the same pattern over and over. The rugs on the floor are soft, thick strands of material woven in colorful geometric patterns. There are paintings on the walls, styles of art she doesn’t recognize, and small elegant statues used as bookends on the shelves behind the console-desk. Bain seems to take it all for granted; he drops the bag he brought up from the dune buggy onto the couch and heads down the hallway.

“Over here,” Reyes says. He’s opened a door for her, and she walks over to look inside. “Guest room. That way is the bathroom,” he says, gesturing to the other door across the room. There are windows on the far wall, dark curtains drawn. The bed is large, deep with blankets, and just looking at it makes her want to crawl in and not come out for several days. Anything else is superfluous. “Yours for as long as you need it.”

“Won’t Bain want it?” she asks. The couch is big enough, but not the same as a real bed.

“Don’t worry about him.” Reyes has a wicked glint in his eye. “He’ll be comfortable wherever he winds up spending the night.”

There’s an innuendo in there somewhere, but she doesn’t have the energy to puzzle it out. Before she can ask any more questions, there’s a shout from down the hall. “Reyes!” Bain calls. “You bastard, where’ve you hidden the  _ real _ goddamn food?”

“Pardon me while I rescue my kitchen from its pillaging.” Reyes gives her a wink and a grin as he steps away. It makes her smile.

The door to the guest room closes behind her when she steps inside, shutting off the light from the living area. Moving carefully, trying not to trip over anything, she places her bag on the bed and crosses the room to open the curtains. The windows admit a dim sort of twilight, enough to see by, and a view of the valley below. The sulfur pools are steaming in the cool night air. Above them, the ridge that Bain called the Varren’s Scalp rises proud and sharp. A thought comes to her as she stares out at the jagged rocks: if she  _ was _ marooned, was it kindness not to strand her on a mountain crag of knife-like stone, or cruelty to leave her in a desert with nothing but sand and sun? Or was it just convenience, throwing her unconscious body out of the shuttle on their way to somewhere else?

She’s not sure she wants to know who she was before, if she was friends with people who abandoned her naked and defenseless on a strange planet. Maybe she’ll make a new life as  _ Luna, _ Bain’s friend. But maybe she’s being too narrow-minded. It could all come back.

She runs her fingers over the implant at the back of her neck. Her biotic amp is a small port, nestled between two vertebrae. The other one- the stranger one- is larger, a plastic cover that cups her temporal lobe behind her right ear. As long as she keeps her hair down, it will be hidden from sight. It’s cool beneath her touch, the texture of the plastic rasping faintly under her fingers. On one edge, she can feel something that might be a latch, and for a second she considers tugging at it. She reconsiders quickly. Not without someone on hand to make sure her brain doesn’t start oozing out of a hole in her skull or something. Her hand shakes a little as she lowers it. Could the implant be why her memory is gone? She could be an escaped experiment. Or a failed one.

Something about the thought of  _ failure, a failed one, _ makes her stomach hurt. Or maybe it’s hunger. She doesn’t know the last time she ate. So she closes the curtains and steps back out into the hallway.

Following the sound of their voices, it’s easy for her to find Bain and Reyes in the apartment’s kitchen. Judging by the table and chairs at the far side of the room, it doubles as the dining area. There’s a large window beyond the table, taking up most of the wall, looking out on a balcony with cheap flat-pack manufactured furniture, and to the west, on the last violet strands of the sunset.

“You can’t eat all of that,” Reyes is saying. “Don’t be wasteful.”

“Never underestimate the holding capacity of my stomach,” Bain replies, continuing to heap crackers on his plate. “Hey, Luna. Soup?”

It takes her a second to recognize the name and process it as  _ my name, I’m Luna, _ and Bain’s already holding out a bowl by the time she says “Yes, please.” It’s warm in her hands, and for a moment she just holds it and breathes in the smell of broth and noodles.

“It’s somewhat experimental,” Reyes warns her as she sits across the table from him. “The bioengineers- well, you can’t expect the best from exiles.”

“Exiles?” she repeats, a spoonful of noodles halfway to her mouth. Bain and Reyes share a look as the larger man sits down at the head of the table.

“We’re in the Andromeda galaxy,” Bain says. “The Nexus brought us all here.”

She nods as she chews. That, at least, sounds familiar.

“There was an uprising. Trouble with bad governance,” Bain continues. “People living here, they either decided to leave or were exiled for crimes.”

“Which were-” She glances between them, not quite wanting to ask.

“I left,” Reyes says. “I had grand dreams of adventure, and I’m still trying to get there.”

Bain stretches and grins. “I’m an exile,” he says proudly. “Nexus treated the krogan like shit, and I told them so. Turns out we left ‘free speech’ behind in the goddamn Milky Way.”

“And you punched that security guard,” Reyes adds, leaning back in his chair and kicking out his feet like a lounging lion.

“That, too,” Bain agrees. He shrugs, still smiling. “What can I say? Stuck on that half-built lifeboat, I had to fight someone or go crazy.”

Reyes shakes his head, although he’s smiling, too. “Sometimes I wonder if you’re the grand adventure I thought I was looking for.”

“I’m not an adventure. I’m just trouble,” Bain says, entirely cheerful.

She finishes crunching through a chunk of root vegetable before she asks, “So you two are…”

“On and off,” Bain says.

“An open relationship,” Reyes elaborates. “We see different people, but we always come back to each other.” Bain smiles at him, the expression crooked and warm.

She has more questions, but she doesn’t want to pry. There’s more basic information to be established before she can go down the frivolous route of digging into the relationship between her hosts. “How long have you been on Kadara?” she asks instead.

“We both come and go,” Reyes says. “I transport sensitive goods-”

Bain slurps down a noodle before interrupting, “You smuggle.”

“You hunt kett for a hobby and live off handouts from grateful angara,” Reyes replies, his tone not quite accusatory but teasingly close.

“And I mooch off you,” Bain agrees, grinning as he lifts his bowl to sip at the broth.

Reyes waves a hand dismissively. “Anyways. Kadara’s been home to exiles a little under a year. I laid claim to this place, oh, eight months ago. Maybe closer to nine.”

“A year,” she repeats to herself. Something…  _ something _ makes her think that sounds like a long time.

“You remembering something?” Bain asks. He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Got a funny look on your face.”

“I… I don’t think I woke up with… the rest of you. A year, that sounds…” She shakes her head slowly. “My old life isn’t that far away. I haven’t been here, Andromeda, for a year.”

“Could be more recently thawed,” Reyes murmurs. “Although you must have acted quickly to get thrown off the Nexus fresh out of cryo.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Bain elbow Reyes in the arm.. “Don’t be a cunt,” he hisses.

For once, Reyes doesn’t come back with a snappy retort. “Are you alright, Luna?”

“Yeah, I’m…” She rubs her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose, trying to push back the headache that’s trickling in at her temples. “I’m just tired, I guess. I’m gonna get some sleep.”

Bain nods approvingly as she nudges her bowl away. “Rest up. I’ll take you down to the market tomorrow, see about picking up some essentials.”

“You don’t have to-”

He cuts her off with a quick gesture. “Tell yourself you’ll owe me, if you like.”

It seems he’s not going to let her argue, so she settles for saying, “You’re too kind.”

Reyes barks with laughter at that. “That’s a first.”

 

She barely takes the time to kick off her shoes before she tumbles into bed and rolls to wrap the thick comforter around her like a cocoon, much less to look at the little clock on the bedside table. When she wakes, headache relieved, there’s no more light seeping through under the curtains. Late, then. Her mouth is sticky and dry, so she unwinds herself from the blankets and stumbles through the door that Reyes pointed out as the bathroom.

The lights are off, beside a safety light glowing faintly above the mirror over the sink. From what she can tell, the bathroom is small but functional, utilitarian. There’s another door opposite the one she came through, and she can hear the boys talking faintly. The sink runs cool water over her fingers, and she ducks her head down to her hands to drink. When she switches the faucet off again, Reyes’ voice becomes easier to hear.

“- an unusual story, certainly.”

“I’ve heard stranger,” Bain rumbles in reply.

“If someone was targeting us, they’d use a more plausible cover,” Reyes says. “A business deal with me, or a contract for you.”

“Could refuse those.”

“Instead they’re going to rely on your generous nature? You’re not renowned for it, Bain.”

“I can’t believe that finding her in the middle of nowhere was a coincidence,” he says, insistent. “Who knew about my route? Who other than you?”

“Whoever told you about the eiroch out there,” Reyes says. “Anyone you may have mentioned it to before you left.”

“No one.”

“What about the machines?” Reyes asks, almost too softly for her to hear.

Bain scoffs. “What about them?”

“They do strange things. Things no one understands. You’ve fought them, seen the way they can come out of nowhere.”

“That’s fabrication, not- what, goddamn teleportation?” Bain laughs harshly.

“I’m not saying that’s the answer. I’m saying, we don’t know the answer. We may never know.”

Bain sighs. “Fucking Andromeda. Weird shit like this never happened back home.”

Softly, she can hear Reyes laugh. “If you think weird shit never happened in the Milky Way, you weren’t paying attention.”

The comment makes her smile, though she doesn’t know why. She steps away from the door and pauses to look in the mirror, running her damp hands over her dark hair to smooth the flyaways.  _ Luna, _ she tells herself as she stares down her reflection.  _ I’m Luna. I’m on Kadara. I’m an exile. I am Luna. _


End file.
